Bhima Devi Blogs #2: What Happens in Shimla Museum Stays in the Journal

Quick Question: Exactly when does an idea become so big that it is worth fighting for?

Quicker Answer: When it literally springs to life before you the minute you hold it in your hands.

This journal, that we have spent nearly two months talking incessantly about like a pirate's parrot that has accidentally gotten high on rum, first came to life in my hands in the small canteen below the Victorian mansion in Shimla that is now the Himachal State Museum.

This was an Object Analysis session where each member had a personalised hand-out and a worksheet, and typical of all Speaking Archaeologically Events back then, it would have been the task deadline for the Season 3 Members that night, in which, each student would be submitting a paper on one of the many aspects of Bhima Devi Temple. 

Interestingly, by now, everyone had already submitted a paper or quit on the pretext of "too soon," "too many assignments in the college," "too much on my plate and in my life," leaving me with the same retort I always have: 

Whoever said Archaeology was a cakewalk? If anything, Desk or Armchair Archaeology was even harder than fieldwork because it exercises the one muscle that humans hesitate to consciously put to test: their brains!

By now, this Batch, too, had realised that Archaeology was not all fancy Indiana Jones hats and Tomb Raiding à la Lara Croft. Writing papers was much harder than any other form of writing, especially because if you don't reference it, it isn't research! 

So, the quality of submissions I had received so far and the tanking enthusiasm of the students had convinced me that I needed new rattles to keep these kids entertained. 

Consequently, here we were in Shimla—a perfect weekend getaway for ickle 19 year olds who want Insta-stories and instant memories over quality brain food anyday. They could stroll around, enjoy the nascent winter of November and hopefully, I wouldn't have to constantly hold rattles to keep their attention—we were in a museum after all, a place full of curiosities for all kinds, regardless of their individual opinions about history.

And yet, my mind kept reeling back to just one thing: the two people who had appeared to be the most driven about working on Bhima Devi—the girl, who had been eager to verify measurements until satisfied and the boy, who kept me awake with constant conversions of metric into indigenous units of measurement—still hadn't submitted what was to be a joint task.

Half disappointed but almost scornfully certain that they wouldn't have managed it anyway, I walked up to Divyansh and asked him what the status of their submission was.

"Could we please discuss this over lunch, Ma'am?" he requested, his face its characteristic passive and expressionless that sometimes gives you the impression that he's been carved out of glass.

Not entirely sure how to take it, I nodded but couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach—these kids aren't going to last! 

Especially the lad, the feeling emphasised before I could ignore it. He's too confident, too passionate for his own good. Maybe he was burning too brightly too soon. 

And yet, he couldn't have failed completely!

It took him less than fifteen minutes to figure out what was wrong with the crypt burial in the museum and fill his worksheet. He couldn't really be like the rest, the more common ones I was accustomed to, could he? Would he be apologising, begging me for more time, stating that because they had to travel and look for accommodation he simply couldn't do it?

Lost in these very thoughts, I wandered off to the museum library and ran into Divyansh and Priyanshu there again. They were seated on the traditional low stools on the floor, surrounded by books.

"If now is the time you decide to sit to finish the task—," I began disapprovingly.

"Oh no, Ma'am! We were only following up on something we were going through the task," Priyanshu replied softly, her smile not betraying even a shadow of guilt I was expecting.

"Make sure you share all the pictures of the museum session you took today, people."

With that, I left, feeling if anything, more ill at ease.

What exactly were they upto?

Luckily, lunch time came too soon to put an end to my anxiety. I watched them from the corner of my eye as I evaluated the worksheets and the tasks the others had turned in, telling them what they could have done differently. So far, not a single decent paper had come out of the Bhima Devi Workshop.

"So, Divyansh, Priyanshu," my voice sounded almost sarcastically dejected. "What about your task?"

Divyansh rose to his feet and I was ready to embrace the theatrics, which, by now I had seen too many of in the last two seasons. I scoffed to myself, expecting all sorts of excuses ranging from crashing computers to grief over a dead pet that all somehow came in the way of meeting the deadline. Much to my surprise, though, he zipped open his backpack and extracted from it a thick document.

"What's this?" I spluttered, looking from him to the document to Priyanshu.

"The task," they replied in unison, sharing a small smile at the expression of disbelief on my face. "We figured since we will be seeing you well within the deadline, we could perhaps have you evaluate this in person for us."

Punching a quick email to the Speaking Archaeologically Panel that the task had been handed in person to me, I pushed the chairs on either side of mine towards the two of them and gestured them to take a seat.

What I read isn't mammothly different from what you shall read in the paper titled Structure and Science in the Bhima Devi Project Edition of the Speaking Archaeologically Journal.

"But, Ma'am," Divyansh interrupted before I could scribble a well deserved A+ on the submission. "I was wondering if you could let us continue with the Research on this site. There's so much more to this site..."

I looked up straight into his eyes and saw for the very first time what I have seen since a million times now—a reflection of the same passionate determination I was accused of having when I went to Oxford.

"Dear God! He's just as mad as I am," I remember thinking to myself.

A week later: 1 a.m. in the morning

Unable to sleep, I reached for my phone and saw just the person I was hoping for, online.

"Awake, Divyansh?"

"Yes."

I threw my head back and exhaled loudly. I could be mad for suggesting this. If we did this it would mean we would do nothing else as an organisation. Not to mention the many students who would lose courage, enthusiasm and even the shadow of curiousity they had for Archaeology. Not all Archaeology is glamorous, after all. 

"If I were to take the Panel's permission," I typed slowly. "And presuming they approve: how would you like this to be a book? A proper Archaeological investigation on the site of Bhima Devi Temple of Pinjore on the same lines as that of the British Museum at Amravati Stupa?"

There was a pause in which I stared at the screen and realised he was probably doing the same on the other end because it didn't show him typing.

Sighing, I shook my head.

Too ambitious.Burning too brightly too soon, Shriya, I told myself. I had just put the phone down when it buzzed again. Only two words returned as a reply: "Hell, yes!"

"It's not going to be easy though," I felt I'd be remiss if I didn't tell him that.

"As long as it would be worth it," he replied. "I am game if you are."